I did not ask him if it was ok to post this but it is so awesome. Casey is not the only talented author in the family.
A wave goodbye
This visit was going to be different…As I drove that familiar stretch of highway through the frozen Idaho landscape, I could sense it coming. I had made this drive literally hundreds of times in my life. As a child, I used to spend my summers exploring the wonders of her five acres in the foothills that overlooked the prairie. Now as an adult I only got to visit sporadically, and today I was going to have to say goodbye.
We had always called her Oma, never anything else. She was my grandmother, my mother’s mom, my Oma. Her health had been failing. Age and Cancer had been taking their toll. I wanted one more visit; one more visit so she could look at my babies the way I’m sure she looked at me at that age, with pride and amusement. Her grandchildren had always given her enjoyment and she felt that her great-grandchildren were blessings and riches given to her from God. They were her gifts for a life well lived, one without monetary wealth and privilege.
This visit wasn’t just for my children; it was for my own selfish purposes too. I wanted to see her again. I had just visited a few days earlier, but knowing my career I would not be able to return for nine months. These things ran through my mind as I drove mindlessly on autopilot, somehow blocking out the kids’ relentless chatter from the backseat. Reality came racing back as I pulled off the gravel road, started down the wooded drive and crossed under the timbered gates. It was still cold and the patchy snow crackled and snapped under the tires. The house hadn’t changed in years and its familiar sun-faded barn red siding welcomed us into view. The smoke wispily snaked from the chimney into crisp morning air as I unloaded kids from the car with last-minute instructions. They had to be careful; Oma wasn’t as strong as she used to be. I wanted them to be their vibrant joyous selves for her, just not on her.
As we came in the door, the faint smell of wood smoke and hotcakes tingled in the air. The warmth was encompassing; it engulfed us. They had always kept the house warm in the winter; now the heat was vital to keep her comfortable. She must have been feeling better, her silver hair had been brushed and there was a slight rose to her cheeks. It must have taken energy she didn’t have for that. I hugged her frail body--swallowing her in my arms. It broke my heart to feel her old bones just under her clothes. We talked about the weather like old folks like to do and moved onto the kids and their little lives. It was hard for her to speak for long; her lungs now had to fight for air. It wasn’t long before she had to go to her couch and put on the oxygen. The clear plastic tube draping over her ears and resting in her nose made her look small, frail, and vulnerable. She was just a fragile shell of the proud little woman who helped raise me.
Her faltering strength was the signal to gather the kids. Let them kiss goodbye only the way toddlers can. I hoped they warmed her heart the way those baby kisses made mine flutter. I knew the visit would be short and I was okay with that. I wasn’t there for the small talk. I wanted my chance to say goodbye. It was an unspoken understanding; I mustered all the strength I had to say goodbye and I love you without breaking. I wanted to scoop her into my arms and cradle her the same way she had done with me as a child and tell her everything would be okay…To wrap her up and not let go, not for her, but for me. She didn’t have the strength to stand to walk us out. I was grasping for enough poise to restrain my lips from openly quivering when I told her I loved her one more time. They used to walk us out every time, waiting on the top steps to wave as we pulled away. It made me smile to think of it as I buckled the little ones in. I tentatively gripped the steering wheel and readied myself to drive. We were prepared to wave at what I expected to be empty steps when I realized she was there. Tired and weak, clinging to grandpa’s arm, she forced herself to the steps to wave goodbye. We all waved one last time as we pulled away with that unspoken understanding. This time it was the sound of my heart cracking and snapping instead of the snow and ice as we left.
